


His John

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Chaotic Sherlock, Fluff, Kindness, M/M, lovely john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:44:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John affects Sherlock in a way that no other can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His John

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Voodooling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voodooling/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by a fanart that I have seen multiple times on Tumblr and have wanted to write a short blurb about every time.
> 
> http://voodooling.tumblr.com/post/47113342386/another-lazy-doodle-print-available-here
> 
> All credit for the art goes to voodooling, and I very much hope that they don't mind me using it.

It was seldom that anything but illegal substances could in any way improve the swirling chaos of noise that sometimes forced its way into Sherlock’s brain, refusing to be shut out any longer. Misery and a foul mood would permeate the air around him, and concentrating on any one thing besides the rank fog in his mind resembled chewing glass. Any hatred that he ever managed to suppress for the general stupidity of the populace around him would boil to the surface, leaving a snarl on his face at any unfortunate person’s attempt at communication. 

Then he met John.

Stupid, wondrous, idiotic John. 

Such a simple man, with such simple answers; this alone made the short man much more complicated than any of the fools outside 221B.

Just after the doctor had moved in, there had been a tipping point for Sherlock; the end of an enormously disappointing case, a nasty argument with Mummy, an offhand comment from a bitter client, and the general fatigue of life all seemed to collide in on the man at once. 

The noise. God, it was awful. 

Data, disappointment, apprehension, anger, frustration, discomfort, cravings, all bundled up into a single smothering emotion combined of rage and fatigue.  
John, simple, wonderful John, of course he noticed. Where every other imbecile had merely scoffed at the “freak” and told him to lighten up, to take a joke, John didn’t. 

John fixed.

He offered a hand to help up, a lap to rest on, a shoulder to lean on, and a comforting, calming presence to rest in. 

The absolute, incandescent beauty of Sherlock’s simple John was that the genius knew everything about the doctor. Obviously, there were incidents from John’s past or certain tastes that were unknown, but the man himself was pure; clean from irritating, noisy data and bitter harshness and bothersome troubles. Instead, he was calm, peaceful, willing to help. Willing to ask and be snapped at, willing to sacrifice his personal comfort in the present to later be comfortable with Sherlock. 

To top every little wonderful thing off, John calmed the chaos. 

When he smiled kindly at Sherlock, he meant it, with no ulterior motive. When he complimented Sherlock, he did so in truth and innocence. When he offered Sherlock his help, it was a promise. The man was nothing but sincere, and in that way, Sherlock knew with every part of his chaotic self that the kind man could be trusted. In turn, that simple trust settled into relaxation, which turned to calmness, which finally slipped down into peace. 

No more noise.

No more chaos.

No more rage.

No more confusion and hurt and frustration.

All was set aside at the touch of one man.

His John.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this when I was having a very shitty day, and I felt very much like Sherlock did. As I don't have a John Watson to comfort me, I just listened to Audiomachine on repeat. 
> 
> Close enough.


End file.
